More psychobabble.

Last Sunday morning I woke up feeling crappy again.  More anxiety, more ick. 
So I've been dealing with that this week.  I saw my therapist on Monday and this was the first time I've been feeling bad since I started seeing her, so, you know, she could see I wasn't faking it, right?  We started talking about whatever - what are you feeling, what are you thinking when you start feeling panicky, what are you dreaming about - and somehow we got onto the subject of work.  And how much I loved my last job.  And I started bawling.  Hard, ugly sobs.  I was good at my job.  I loved my job.  I need something in my life that I feel successful at, and I don't feel I have that right now.  She responds with something along the lines of, you feel worthless, that you are not contributing the the household, that you are not good at what you are doing.  And I say, absolutely, and cry harder. 
Stay-at-home moms are some of the hardest working people I know, and this is not a post on the merit of one way to parent over the other.  But both of my kids are in school all day.  I do stuff, don't get me wrong, and I love working in the schools, but I need something steady.  Something I feel good about. 
I felt really cleansed and refreshed after that session.  I was hoping it would end the anxiety attacks.  It didn't.  But I got some interesting insights, and I've spent the past few days subbing and applying for other jobs.  I want to spend this summer with my kids, and when it's over, I need a job again. 
Talk about lucky, right?  I need to focus on how lucky I am that I am able to say, I need a job for my mental health, not because we are suffering.